The first time the call came at the Hilton Garden Inn Downtown in Minneapolis. I had gotten in earlier in the day and went to be early ahead of load-in of our booth at the Midwest Systems Reliability Workshop. I awoke from a dead sleep to the hotel phone ringing.

“Hello?” I asked groggily.

“Hello, Miss Thompson? We wanted to know how your stay has been,” came a woman’s voice, bright and enthusiastic.

“My… It’s…” I looked over at the alarm clock on the nightstand that read 3:03 am, “Three o’clock in the morning. Why on god’s green earth would you call asking me that now?”

The line went dead.

The next morning, I stormed up to the front desk asking what the hell they were thinking – though I am my mother’s daughter and that may have been what I was thinking, but I was nothing if not cordial and polite… if maybe a little forceful.

“I’m sorry Miss Thompson; I have a record of all the calls into and out of that room. There hasn’t been a call to that room for a week. Certainly nothing last night.”

“Then who called me?” I insisted.

“That’s the thing, ma’am, I don’t show anyone calling you. Not us, not an outside line, no one.”

I sighed and walked away.

Two weeks later I checked in to the Radisson Downtown in Salt Lake City ahead of the Mountain States PowerTech Expo. Middle of the night again, the hotel phone rang. There wasn’t a clock on the nightstand in this hotel, but I checked my phone: 3:03 am.

“Hello?” I said, all traces of grogginess replaced by a potent mixture of anger and fear.

“Miss Thompson? Have we done everything to make your stay pleasant?” came the cheerful woman’s voice.

“Who is this?” I demanded.

“Miss Thompson—”

“Who is this!” I demanded.

The line went dead.

I leapt out of bed, threw on some clothes and rushed down to the front desk. Startling the girl working the overnight shift at the front desk, I asked, “Did anyone call my room?”

“Ma’am?”

“Did anyone call my room? Room 309?” I asked again.

“I… I have no way to check… It’s just me here tonight and I definitely didn’t call anyone.” It’s true, her voice was completely different – lower register, slower speech pattern.

“Do you have a way to check to see if any calls came in to my room?”

“I don’t, no.”

“Then who does?” I pressed. When she indicated corporate might, I insisted, “Get them on the line.”

Ten minutes later, she managed to get the IT guy cursed with overnight on-call duty to check the phone system. No calls in or out of my room tonight. In fact, the only calls into this location’s phone system was at 9pm to the front desk; no calls to any of the rooms since yesterday morning. “That’s not really unusual,” he said, stifling a yawn. “Most people just use their cell phones to call anywhere.”

The next night I unplugged the phone from the wall, but I think my body was tensed for the 3:03 wakeup call anyway because I was wide awake at 3 am sharp. When the call didn’t come, I turned on the light on the nightstand and went to the bathroom. I took care of business and washed my hands before coming back to bed… to find the bed perfectly made, as if I hadn’t just slept the last four hours in it.

“What the hell?” I said aloud. I looked around the room, checked the door – locked from inside with the security tab still engaged. I made sure every light in the place was turned on and turned the television on to CNN. No more sleep took place that night.

Fortunately, the rest of the stay was uneventful. I thought that was it… until a month later at the Embassy Suites Centennial Park in Atlanta. I had checked in ahead of DataSync South. Just to be safe, I unplugged the hotel phone from the wall and double checked the door locks before going to bed. 

So, you’ll understand my terror when the hotel phone rang at 3:03 am that night.

Fighting my better judgement, I answered the phone. “H-Hello?”

“Miss Tompson,” the same enthusiastic voice said, “Are you not enjoying your stay?”

“H-How are you calling me? The phone isn’t even plugged in.”

“Did you appreciate the extra blanket at the foot of your bed?”

I did notice that when I checked in. “Y-yes…”

“Good,” the voice responded. “We want your stay to be comfortable. We know how you get cold at night.”

“How do you know that?”

The line went dead.

I was a mess the rest of the trip and, frankly, didn’t want to travel any more. I worked with my team and managed to clear my schedule of any more travel for the rest of the year. Except it was too late to rearrange plans for GridOps West in Phoenix the following week.

When I reluctantly checked in to the Courtyard by Marriott Downtown Phoenix I explained to the front desk, “I’ve had a little incident with a stalker recently – can you make sure no calls come into my room?”

“Certainly, Miss Thompson.”

I unplugged the phone and set it outside my room. I locked the door, flipped the deadbolt, secured the security tab and set my still-packed checked luggage in front of the door. I sat bolt upright in the bed, all the lights on, clutching a pillow.

Somehow, I managed to fall asleep that night.

Until 3:03 am, that is.

Despite being on “Do Not Disturb” mode and the ringer turned off, my cell phone rang. I stared at the glowing screen. The caller ID read simply “Guest Services.” Tentatively, I touched the answer button. “Y-yes?”

“Miss Thompson, we would like to thank you for your loyalty,” The cheerful voice said.

“My loyalty? I’m not even a member…”

“Our records indicate you’re a member for life.”

The phone went dead and I heard the locked door open.